


words that remain unspoken

by trashcanjanet



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, depressed character, non-graphic, referenced panic attacks, they won't admit it tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28166853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcanjanet/pseuds/trashcanjanet
Summary: Sometimes, all you need is an outside force to guide you to the light.-It's been four days since Kenma last went to school. Kuroo's not about to let his best friend wallow any longer.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	words that remain unspoken

“Kenma?”

The boy in question groans, burying his face in his pillow.

“Kenma, it’s been four days since I last saw you. What’s going on?”

Kenma doesn’t respond.

“You’ve missed a lot of school, you know. I brought you my notes and all your homework.”

“Go away, Kuro,” he mumbles. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t make his voice any louder. His chest clenches painfully.

“Please, kitty? Just let me know you’re alive.”

 _I’m trying!_ Kenma screams, but the words don’t leave his mouth. _I’ve been trying for days and it just won’t work._

“Okay, that’s it,” Kuroo calls, a new determination settling into his voice. “I’m coming in.”

_Wait-_

The door creaks open, light from the hallway flooding Kenma’s room. He moves to throw the blankets off and yell, “What the hell, Kuroo? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

But his body stays frozen and his words remain on the tip of his tongue. He can hear Kuroo shuffling across the floor and the sharp “Fuck!” when he trips over something. Kenma wants to smile, wants so badly to call him an idiot for not watching where he’s going. But he stays hidden under his covers, still as a block of lead.

Kuroo finally makes it to the Kenma-sized lump. “Kenma, come on.”

No answer.

“You can’t do this forever.”

Kenma shifts, turning his ear into the mattress so he doesn’t have to hear Kuroo’s gratingly sympathetic voice.

“Hey, I saw that. Don’t try to hide from me now.” 

Before he can protest, the blankets are ripped unceremoniously from his body. “What the fuck, Kuroo?” his tongue tries to say. Instead, all that comes out is a pitiful whimper. For a moment, he and Kuroo just stare at each other, and then the floodgates are open. Kenma cries and cries, clutching his best friend’s shirt, and all Kuroo can do is sit there in shock.

“It hurts, Kuro! It hurts so bad.”

“What hurts, kitty?”

Another gut-wrenching sob leaves Kenma’s frail frame. His ribcage feels so tight he’s afraid it might burst. He clutches at his aching chest. “It hurts!”

Understanding dawns over Kuroo. He shushes Kenma, lightly stroking his fingertips across the younger boy’s back. “Shh, I know, baby. It’ll stop hurting soon.”

“No it won’t!”

“Why not?”

Kenma just cries harder, nails digging into Kuroo’s chest. Kuroo takes the pain in stride. “Shh, baby. I’m right here. I’ll make it stop hurting.”

“You can’t,” Kenma croaks out. “It never stops. It keeps coming back and it makes it hard to move and then it hurts more.”

“Why does it hurt more?”

“Just look!” he flings his arm out toward his room, toward the books and papers and dirty clothes strewn across the floor. “I can’t clean it! I tried, Kuro, I really tried.”

“Hey, I believe you. You don’t have to do it right now if you don’t wanna.”

Kenma sniffles. “Really?”

Kuroo smiles gently, rubbing his nose against Kenma’s head. “Really, kitty.”

He reaches up a hand to thread his fingers through Kenma’s hair, only for the boy to jerk away. Panic rises in Kenma’s throat. “Don’t.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“It’s disgusting.”

Kuroo frowns. “Kitty, nothing about you is disgusting.”

“I haven’t washed it in days!”

“Then let’s wash it today.”

Kenma wails. “I can’t lift my arms, Kuro, how am I supposed to wash it?” 

He waves his hands weakly to prove his point. Kuroo grasps at Kenma’s tiny fists, enveloping them with his own large palms. He kisses each knuckle gently, as if worshipping Kenma’s bones.

“I’ll help you, kitty. I’ll help you wash your hair, and I’ll help you clean, and then I’ll help catch you up on your homework. Does that sound okay?”

Sniffing, Kenma nods. The pain in his chest is still there but it’s becoming easier to move his body. “Okay. But you have to promise not to judge when I turn the lights on.”

“I won’t.”

“And- and don’t look at me naked.”

“I would never!” Kuroo feigns disgust. He scoops his small friend up easily. “Come on, princess. Let’s get you clean.”

Kenma grumbles in protest but buries his face in Kuroo’s chest anyway. His heart pounds at the thought of Kuroo’s nose being in such close proximity to his body. He knows he probably smells like a locker room. He hasn’t showered in four days. But Kuroo doesn’t say anything, either because he doesn’t notice or simply because he doesn’t care. So Kenma lets Kuroo carry him into the bathroom, lets him set him on the counter gently, but he draws the line at undressing him. 

“Turn around,” he says firmly.

“Okay,” Kuroo laughs.

“And close your eyes. Tight. No peeking.”

“Gotcha, your majesty.”

Kenma strips as quickly as he can, shivering from the loss of all of his layers. He sinks into the steaming bathwater with a sigh. “You can turn around now.”

Kuroo does. He gazes at Kenma with unadulterated fondness. Kenma finds himself suddenly shy, picking at his fingernails under the water. “What?”

Kuroo smiles softly. “Nothing, kitty. You’re just really cute.”

“Shut up,” Kenma mutters, but the faint blush in his ears gives him away. 

Kuroo’s feline grin widens. “I’m gonna get you some clothes, ‘kay? Don’t drown while I’m gone.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 _That’s not true._ Kenma has spent the better part of four days dreaming up new ways to end his life, from inhaling water to downing every pill in his cabinet. But when it came down to it, he barely had the energy to turn over in bed, let alone get the tools to commit suicide. He supposes he should feel lucky for that. For once, his laziness has come in handy. 

Kenma sinks into the tub until the water reaches just above his lips. He blows bubbles under the surface. He studies the ripples they make, watching minuscule waves roll across the tub until they smack into a rubber duck. A rubber duck that wasn’t there before.

He glances up in surprise and finds Kuroo grinning down at him. “It’s kinda beautiful, don’tcha think?”

“What is?”

Kuroo sits on the edge of the tub. “The ripples. It’s strange to think that one small drop of water can cause such a massive effect. They resonate on and on, until they’re stopped by an outside force.” 

He picks up the rubber duck to illustrate his point. “Sometimes that outside force is a barrier, killing your momentum before you’re ready to give it up.”

He drops the duck back into the water. It bobs up and down, its little yellow head tipping under its body for a moment before it rights itself again. “But sometimes, that outside force is a helping hand. A friend to guide you home before the ripples take you over and drown you.”

They’re both silent for a moment, listening intently to the _drip_ of water leaking from the faucet. Kenma reaches out for the duck with both hands, resting it delicately on his palms. “You’re my outside force, aren’t you,” he says quietly.

Kuroo doesn’t have to answer him. Kenma looks up again and offers the duck to Kuroo, who plucks it from his hand and plants it in his nest of hair. Kenma giggles, the first genuine sound of joy to escape his lips in days. Kuroo laughs along with him. His hand brushes against Kenma’s unconsciously, but neither of them care to move it. 

After what feels like hours, Kenma grabs a bottle of shampoo, splashing Kuroo in the process. “Hey!” he complains.

“Shut up,” Kenma retorts. “You promised to wash my hair.”

“The things I do for you, Kyanma.” Kuroo shakes his head in disappointment, but the look on his face shows anything but. His eyes are soft, crinkled at the corners. His lips are upturned and pursed, as if he is fighting to keep his adoration from being voiced. 

He pours some of the shampoo into his hands as Kenma dunks his head under the water. When the smaller boy comes up, Kuroo begins lathering it over his hair. He massages the tips of his fingers into Kenma’s scalp, rubbing circles and scratching behind his ears until Kenma nuzzles his hand. He drags shampoo over his bleached tips, separating the tangled strands with gentle tugs. 

Kenma sighs, relaxing in Kuroo’s hold. His hands are moving under the water and Kuroo can barely make out that he’s cracking his knuckles. A loud _pop_ makes both of them jump.

“How long has it been since you did that?!”

Kenma stares at his own fingers in disbelief. “At least a week. I didn’t think it would be that loud.”

Kuroo leans forward and chuckles, deep and rumbling in his chest. Kenma grins too. He catches Kuroo’s reflection in the water and stops short. His hair, ridiculous as it is, looks ridiculously good on him. The poor rubber duck is clinging on for dear life. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his forearms are flexed as he massages Kenma’s head. His lips are quirked up in a half smile. He looks happy, in the tenderest form of the word.

 _Is this what bliss feels like?_ Kenma asks himself as Kuroo’s fingers continue to work magic across his scalp. They dance down to the nape of his neck, digging into the muscle there and making his head loll back in satisfaction. They travel to his temples, gently circling the sore spots until it no longer hurts to have vision. 

_I think so,_ he answers his own question. Bliss is this moment, with Kuroo’s hands in his hair and his shoulders resting against Kuroo’s muscular thigh. Bliss is the smile he can’t stop from spreading across his face, and the blush that threatens to out his affection for the older boy. Bliss is the knowledge that Kuroo is here, and Kuroo doesn’t judge, and Kuroo will wash his hair until they’re old and grey. 

“Hand me the soap, will ya?”

Kenma snaps out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

“Soap. I’ll get your back while I’m at it.” 

Kenma hands him the bar without a second thought. It’s only when Kuroo’s palms start working into his tense shoulders that he realizes just how domestic, just how sickly sweet, this whole situation is. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He could laugh, to show Kuroo and himself that he’s enjoying this. Or he could cry, knowing he doesn’t deserve someone as incredible and selfless as Kuroo. 

“Stop overthinking.”

“How’d you know?” Kenma asks, startled.

“I know you,” Kuroo answers simply. “I know what it looks like when the gears in that pretty little head of yours start turning away. I know what it looks like when you think badly of yourself.”

“Oh.”

Kuroo’s hands stop moving. He grasps Kenma’s jaw with two fingers, turning his head so they can just barely make eye contact. “You deserve the world, Kozume Kenma,” he says softly. “You deserve more than what I can give you.”

“That's not true." Tears are brimming in Kenma’s eyes again. "You give me more than I deserve.”

"That's not true either."

Maybe Kenma’s imagining it, but he’s almost certain there’s tears in Kuroo’s eyes too.

Kuroo’s hands, gentle as ever, work their way down his shoulders and down to his forearms. He massages Kenma’s knuckles, his wrists, and works his way back up. Then his fingers brush over a raised line on Kenma’s forearm. They both freeze.

“Kenma.”

Panic begins to flood Kenma’s chest again. “Kuro?”

For a single, tense moment, neither of them speaks. Water drips from Kenma’s hair onto the surface below like a ticking clock. Finally, Kuroo sighs. 

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Kenma replies timidly.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Never again.”

“I promise.”

Kuroo, satisfied, resumes his massage. Kenma releases his breath shakily, relieved that Kuroo doesn’t want to talk more about the scar. He wills his body to relax again, wills the feeling of leadenness to seep out of his pores into the warm water. His hands are trembling under the weight of everything he went through in the last four days.

“How many attacks have you had?”

“Seven.”

“In four days?” Kuroo asks, though they both know the answer.

“It still hurts.”

Kuroo’s hands migrate from his back to his front, resting just above his heart. “It’ll go away soon, kitty. You know that.”

“I know, but it still…”

Kuroo understands. He understands the feeling of irrational fear overtaking his brain. He’s experienced it himself before particularly stressful exams. He understands the residual panic that resides in Kenma’s blood for days after, eating away at his resolve. He understands what it takes to move forward.

“Let it run its course, remember? The more you fear it, the more power it has over you. The more you fight it, the worse it gets.”

Kenma shrinks into himself. His voice sounds small when he speaks. “I don’t know if I can do it alone.”

“You don’t have to, kitty. I’ll be here every step of the way.”

“I can’t do that to you.”

Kuroo cups Kenma’s cheek, engulfing half his face with one hand. “You’re not doing anything, Kenma. I do this because I want to.”

 _Because I care about you._ The last part remains unspoken, but it hangs over the two of them, thick among the steam fogging up the mirrors. 

Kuroo pulls Kenma against his body and wraps his arms around the smaller boy, not even caring that his forearms are now soaking. The duck falls out of his hair and into the water with a splash. Kenma lets his head rest against Kuroo’s shoulder. The older boy’s chest vibrates as he hums a song, something Kenma’s sure he learned in elementary school. Somewhere in the middle, Kenma’s hands find Kuroo’s and intertwine them. Kuroo latches onto his fingers wordlessly. They allow the moment to take over them, cleansing their souls and refreshing their minds. The fear and sadness dissipate, leaving Kenma pliant in Kuroo’s faithful hands. 

When the song ends, Kenma turns his head into Kuroo’s chest. Kuroo doesn’t seem to have noticed the fact that his shirt is soaked through, or he just doesn’t care. He presses a tight-lipped kiss against Kenma’s part. He relishes the scent of his shampoo, and the fact that his hands now smell like that too.

“That was nice,” Kenma sighs.

Kuroo hums in response.

“Thank you, Kuro.”

He smiles into the younger boy’s hair. “Anything for my sweet Kenma.”

Kenma’s head whips up. “ _Your_ Kenma?”

“Y-yeah,” Kuroo stutters, brain finally catching up to his mouth. His ears burn red with embarrassment. “My Kenma. If you want to be, of course. If you don’t that’s okay. I won’t be mad or anyth-”

“Kuro.”

“Yes?”

“I want to be your Kenma.”

“Oh.” Kuroo’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated, and Kenma is sure his own are no better. “I can be your Kuroo, then?”

Kenma raises an eyebrow. “My Kuroo?”

“If you want.”

He pretends to think for a moment. “I guess I can live with that.”

“So cruel, Kyanma!” the older boy cries. Kenma laughs, splashing his best friend with as much water as he can gather in his palms.

 _My Kuroo_ , Kenma thinks as he dodges a bucket of water. _I like the sound of that._

**Author's Note:**

> my first finished fic in 3 years 😳 i'm such a sucker for soft kuroken


End file.
